


Like Moons and Like Suns

by Awkward_Amateur



Series: All That Blood Was Never Once Beautiful [2]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Ryan Bergara, Hurt Shane Madej, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Recovery, Tags are so hard, Trauma, feel free to suggest tags in the comments if you think of any I should add bc I got nothing, idk how else to tag this, might become Shyan but I'm still unsure so for now can be seen as either way, not too graphic but does reference events of previous fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26587639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkward_Amateur/pseuds/Awkward_Amateur
Summary: Ryan didn’t want to leave his best friend alone. He didn’t want to think about what had happened the last time they’d been separated. Shane’s screams. Pale skin contrasted with bright blood. So instead he stayed by Shane’s side.The boys may have made it out alive, but the fun's not over yet.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej
Series: All That Blood Was Never Once Beautiful [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930885
Comments: 20
Kudos: 47





	1. It's So On Brand

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The title comes from Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. This poem will be referenced throughout the fic. I recommend you go read it as its very inspiring but its not at all necessary for the fic. Also obviously the characters are real people in this and I mean no harm disrespect to them or their families.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan struggles to reach his friend. Steven struggles to deal with nozy coworkers. Shane just plain struggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I'm back. I know it's been a little bit but I wanted to make sure I was going to be able to finish this story before I started posting it. Not that I've written it all already, in fact I haven't even started writing the second chapter, but I have plotted the main arcs to their conclusions so hopefully I can at least keep the story moving. Now just a few more things!
> 
> First: I'm not sure how this chapter came out (I know I say that a lot but for real this time). I had a lot of plans to make something really special for the first chapter but they never really turned into anything and this mock version I'd been writing just to get something down on paper becan to shape into something pretty okay so I just decided to make it the real chapter. I know you all have different ideas and/or expectations of where you want this story to go so I hope you enjoy the way I've decided to steer it.
> 
> Second: If you have any opinions, positive or negative (but lets be honest I much prefer the positive), please leave comments! Nothing makes me happier than reading all your thoughts, feelings, and predictions. And if there's anything particular you'd like to see in this story feel free to suggest it. LIke I said, I already have the main plot arc planned but everything else is still up in the air (and to be honest I might even change the main plot if I come up with a better idea at some point).
> 
> Third: I am a slow (and incredibly busy) writer, so the chapter updates on this story will be in no way prompt or reliable. Sometimes I get a chapter out within a couple of days and sometimes it's more like months. For those of you who're willing to put up with me, I'm so grateful. But for anyone who prefers to read the whole thing at once, feel free to wait until the fic is finished and come back then. I'll miss you but I also understand how frustrating it can be to wait so long in between chapters.
> 
> Alright, enough rambling. I'm so excited to be diving back into this story. I hope you enjoy the chapter. :)

_You may write me down in history_

_With your bitter, twisted lies,_

_You may trod me in the very dirt_

_But still, like dust, I'll rise._

_\- Maya Angelou_

It was weird to be home. Ryan’s apartment was exactly the same as he’d left it, dishes lying unwashed in the sink, clothes thrown haphazardly over a chair. There was a calendar on the wall, and when Ryan looked at it, when he marked off the days he’d missed, days spent first tied up in a basement, then in a hospital bed, then by his best friends side leaving only to shower and change at the hotel room he’d booked but never slept at, he felt...nothing. Well, not nothing. Too much, maybe. So much that his brain didn’t know how to handle it and locked all his emotions in a box so that all he could feel was numb. Ryan felt a little bit like he imagined Shane felt most of the time.

And that was another thing. Maybe the biggest thing. Ryan was home and so was Shane. Shane was in Ryan’s home. He’d been there before of course; more than that, he’d spent countless nights passed out on the couch, had taken to leaving a toothbrush at Ryan’s place ‘just in case’. 

But Shane wasn’t at Ryan’s apartment because he’d had too much to drink and didn’t feel like going home. He wasn’t at Ryan’s apartment because they were so behind on editing that they had no choice but to keep working even when it was too late to beat the offices. He wasn’t there because Ryan was freaking out and needed a friend. He wasn’t there because he himself was panicking a little (despite what Shane might say, the big guy did need some reassuring himself every now and again, he wasn’t _actually_ a robot). He wasn’t there for any of the countless normal everyday reasons Shane usually wormed his way into Ryan’s apartment. 

He was there because he’d gotten out of the hospital and had nowhere else to go. He was there because his family had flown back to Schaumburg and the doctors told Shane that he wasn’t under any circumstances allowed to live by himself. He was there because in that moment, Shane’s hands wrapped in bandages, the bruises on his pale skin still visible if one knew to look for them, his face oh so desperate as his eyes flicked to Ryan’s... Ryan had taken one look at Shane and volunteered his own living quarters. He’d done it for his friend. That’s all. Not because he was afraid of what would happen if Shane left his side. Not because he didn’t like the idea of being alone. He did it because he was a good friend, and that was that. 

The third thing that’d been bothering Ryan since arriving back at his apartment for the first time in over a month was that even with Shane there, the whole place was too quiet. The first day, Ryan had passed it off as a testament to how many hours he’d spent in the bustling hospital. Of course, his apartment seemed quiet in comparison, there was no beeping of machinery, no muttering of nervous family members, no constant footsteps or nurses checking in. But by the second day, Ryan could confidently say it was a result of his trauma. He’d tried to talk to Shane about it. Tried to talk to Shane about _anything_ really, but the man would just nod or smile or give him a one word answer. It was like Shane had locked himself inside his head and he didn’t seem to be coming out anytime soon.

Ryan had considered going out with Steven for a while, but, despite Shane saying it was fine, Ryan didn’t want to leave his best friend alone. He didn’t want to think about what had happened the last time they’d been separated. _Shane’s screams. Pale skin contrasted with bright blood._ So instead he stayed by Shane’s side. Gave him the bed, despite his protests, and slept on a blowup mattress in the same room. He was with Shane constantly, but it was like Shane wasn’t really there. 

Ryan tried to remind himself that it was too soon to be pushing Shane. He knew that Shane didn’t process things the same way he did, that he needed space and time and quiet to get his brain in order. But Ryan was worried that this time, those things might not be enough. When Ryan had been checked out of the hospital the doctors had recommended a therapist. Ryan had ignored them. When he was eventually forced to give an official statement to the police, they’d again suggested a therapist. That time Ryan had taken it a bit more seriously, perhaps because he’d had no less than three panic attacks throughout the course of giving his statement.

Ryan had been there when the doctors had suggested a therapist for Shane as well. He hadn’t been in the room when Shane had given his statement to the police, but afterwards an officer had pulled him aside and made him promise to get his friend some professional help. Ryan hadn’t brought it up to Shane, but he knew the man would need some convincing. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in therapy, on the contrary Shane was very supportive of all things mental health, it was just that he typically didn’t need them. Shane was the most level headed, laugh it off, anxiety free guy Ryan knew. Well, had known. 

Shane was different now. Jumpier. Distant. His hands still shook constantly despite the fact that medically speaking there was no reason they would be anymore. Ryan knew, from the nights in Shane’s hospital room and the past two nights at Ryan’s apartment, that Shane slept in short, terror-filled bursts, awoken each time by his own choked gasps. Yet Shane never brought it up. Never let Ryan bring it up. Just said, “I’m fine, Ryan. Go back to sleep,” and then rolled over like that was that. Like the whole thing was just a bad dream.

\---

Steven took a deep breath before pushing open the doors, and walking into the Buzzfeed offices. He’d been to the office a few times since _that weekend_ (as he tended to refer to it) to get work or turn things in, but always at night, never when others were around. It wasn’t a conscious thing, avoiding his coworkers, it was just that he’d been spending most of his time working remotely from Shane’s hospital room or else running errands for Shane and Ryan, or else forcing them to take care of themselves. Ryan in particular required extra cajoling to leave Shane’s room for a shower or a solid night’s rest. So Steven had informed his bosses that on no uncertain terms was he returning to work while Shane was still in the hospital, and that had been that. Now though, Shane had been released from the hospital and Steven was free to return to business as usual.

The room fell silent as he entered. Steven knew that Shane and Ryan were still the hottest gossip item in the buzzfeed ecosystem, Andrew had kept him appraised of that, but he was still surprised that the room went silent just for him. After a moment or two, the veteran employees, Steven’s friends, returned to their work thankfully leaving Steven to walk to his desk with minimal awkward conversation. The newer employees, interns mostly, were not quite as kind. 

“Steven!” a voice called.

Steven turned to find three of the newer interns. He had worked with one of them before, an eager kid straight out of college named Jack. The others, Steven had yet to work with. He held in a sigh, before putting on a polite face.

“Hi guys, how can I help you?”

One of the interns, a young woman with long hair and a bright blue beanie leaned in conspiratorially. 

“So,” she lowered her voice, “How are Shane and Ryan?”

Steven looked around awkwardly trying to make eye contact with someone who would save him from this.

“They’re uh...they’re alright.” 

Was that the right thing to say? Steven wasn’t sure. But he certainly wasn’t going to spill any of his friends’ private information to some people he barely knew. 

“Are they coming back?”

Again, Steven paused. As far as he knew, both men were dead set on returning to buzzfeed, but he didn’t want to say anything in case they changed their minds. It’d only been two days since they’d left the hospital. It was much too early to decide anything. 

“I’m not sure,” Steven said dryly, attempting to scoot around the interns and make his way to his desk. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come back to work. Though, despite his best efforts to work from the hospital room, he and Andrew were already behind on the new season of Worth It and Steven would be damned if they fell behind any more.

One of the interns moved to block his path.

“Are they gonna make a video about it? I mean it’s so on brand right?”

Steven froze.

“What?”

The intern stepped forward again, holding out a manilla folder with some loose leaf paper inside. 

“I drew up some ideas, in case they do make a video. Would you pass those on to them?”

Steven just stood there. He didn’t take the folder.

Another of the interns stepped forward.

“Let them know I’m involved too! I worked on an unsolved shoot before so they might remember me. Brandon Sutton. Unsolved has already seen an uptick in numbers since the incident, so now is the time to capitalize. Plus, we should probably shoot it before they look too healthy right? Do they have bruises still or stitches or anything? Any nightmares? All of that would be great content!”

Finally Steven snapped out of it. He took a deep breath to control the anger brewing in his stomach and narrowed his eyes at the interns.

“ _No one_ is making a video about what happened. That would be exploitative, and immoral and... cruel. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Then he turned and stalked to his desk, fingers clenched into fists, teeth grinding painfully. He tried to take a mental snapshot of what the interns looked like, because if there was ever a time to use his influence to get someone fired, this was it. 

He sat down hard, biting back a wince as his butt hit the chair at a strange angle. Andrew gave him a questioning look, but Steven ignored him. He couldn’t talk about it. Not now. Not in this building, where anyone could be listening. Steven couldn’t protect his friends when they’d needed it most, but he could protect them here. So, Steven thought as he composed an email to the head of the intern program, no matter what it took, that’s what he was going to do.

\---

Shane was making a very concerted effort to sit perfectly still. He drew in a slow, careful breath, and let his muscles relax into the couch. His gaze landed unfocused somewhere in the vicinity of the tv. Ryan had been watching some sports thing earlier and when he’d gotten up to shower, Shane hadn’t bothered to turn it off. He felt still, like a statue, but he’d been doing this long enough to know that if he looked down he’d see his own hands betraying him with each minute shake. Oh well, it wasn’t like he could really use them anyway.

Shane shook his head in an attempt to physically rid himself of that line of thought. If he didn’t think about it, he didn’t have to deal with it. Shane knew it was a childish attitude, but he didn’t give a shit. Whatever it took to never have to feel that way again. Weak. Desperate. Suffocating. Trapped. Shane no longer yearned to feel small.

Shane leaned forward to pick up the remote from the coffee table where Ryan had left it. He bit his lip at the sharp twinge of pain in his wrist. His fingers spasmed around the plastic stick and he dropped it into his lap. He thought about the physical therapy exercises he did every morning. Clenching and unclenching his fingers. He thought about the pain medicine in his- well, Ryan’s -medicine cabinet. He wondered if he was addicted to it. It would be impossible to tell until the doctors told him to stop taking it. He wondered if they’d already told him when that was supposed to be. He’d have to ask Ryan later. Ryan _always_ remembered. Shane tried to rephrase that in his head so it sounded less bitter. 

He flipped through the channels mindlessly, looking for some sort of reality show or other trashy program. All those weeks spent tied to a hospital bed- _not tied, not tied, not tied, not tied_ -had given Shane a taste for daytime television. It only took a few presses of the button to find one he was familiar with. He tried to raise the volume but his hand spasmed and he hit the channel button again. He almost changed it back, was planning to even, but then he saw what was now showing on the tv. 

It took him a second to process it. He took in the woman, dressed in a navy pantsuit with short hair and a serious expression. There was a familiar logo in the corner, a news channel Shane watched sometimes when he was feeling patient enough to deal with the familiar anger of delving into American politics. This time however, there wasn’t some dirty politician on the screen. No, nothing to do with politics at all. The photo on the screen was a few years old, Shane knew because he’d been there when the photo was taken. Because the photo was of him. Shane and Ryan strapped up in ghost hunting gear, smiling at each other like they hadn’t a care in the world. It had been a promo shot for whatever season of unsolved they’d been working on at the time. It was a nice picture, Shane thought. A nice picture that had no business being on his goddamn tv. 

It wasn’t until the image switched that Shane’s damaged brain connected the dots as to why there was a picture of him on the television. The new image, well, more of a live video it seemed, was straight out of Shane’s nightmares. It was Natalie, sitting on a bench in front of a grassy field. Objectively, she looked small and weak, but the more Shane looked the more he saw the expression she wore in his worst nightmares. That lust-filled smirk. Those dark dark eyes. She was speaking, but Shane had to struggle to make out the words.

“-and that’s the thing about public opinion.”

Her voice was softer than it’d been when she’d spoken to him. Kinder.

“Once they see you one way, they’ll never change their minds. It won’t matter to them that I was forced into this. Th-that I was raped too. They’ve seen the video and they’ve labeled me as a,” she took a short breath in through her nose, her eyes were wet, “as some sort of predator. But..I’m n-not.” At this point tears flowed from her eyes and Shane felt a twinge of sympathy in his chest. He felt his hands begin to shake harder, his whole body following suit. Was he blaming the wrong person this whole time? When she’d...when she’d done what she did to him, was she just as helpless as he was? Images of the men who’d been alongside her flashed through his head. Did they make her do this?

Shane shook his head roughly. It couldn’t be. She’d seemed so into it. So crazed. She couldn’t have been faking it. Definitely. Probably. Maybe.

He jumped at the sound of the bathroom door opening behind him. Oh right. Ryan.

On the screen an older woman put her arm around Natalie. She too was speaking through tears.

Shane could tell the exact moment Ryan looked up at the tv from the way his footsteps came to an abrupt stop.

“Sh-shane?” His voice was small and shaky.

As if responding to the shaking of his friend’s voice, Shane’s body began trembling so much the remote fell from his lap. The crash of it hitting the floor couldn't have been that loud but it echoed over and over again in Shane’s ears. If Natalie was innocent...

Shane felt nausea rise in his stomach. He tried to scramble to his feet but almost immediately fell back against the couch, dizzy. Oh right, breathing. He’d forgotten to be doing that. Shane frantically gulped in air, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He didn’t want to see the screen. He didn’t want to see the so-very-young girl who he’d-

A firm hand on his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts. He screamed and pulled away harshly, wrist colliding with the back of the couch hard enough to cause the already burning pain of his injuries to skyrocket. 

His eyes flashed open to find Ryan crouched in front of him, hands held out as if calming a frightened animal. He looked...scared. Something in Shane broke at the sight. He stood, this time making sure he took it slow, well slow enough not to fall over at least, and took a step backwards, away from Ryan, towards the door. Ryan was speaking but Shane couldn’t hear him. That was okay. It was all okay. 

Ryan took a step forward prompting Shane to take another backwards. He wasn’t scared of Ryan, really he wasn’t. It was just that the tv was still on and he could still hear Natalie’s voice echoing through the room. Shane glanced around frantically for the remote, desperate to turn it off, _turn it off, turn it off,_ but the remote lay at Ryan’s feet and, for some reason he couldn’t explain but felt deep in his gut, Shane couldn’t get any nearer to Ryan.

Instead he took a few more rapid steps backwards, back colliding harshly with the wall behind him. Shane didn’t care. Without taking his eyes off of a rapidly speaking Ryan- _Shane couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t hear anything really, just her voice whispering in his ear, her moans as she clenched around him, her -_ Shane fumbled blindly for the door handle. He wrenched it open and stumbled backwards through the doorway, closing the door behind him before Ryan could stop him. Then he turned, anxiously putting his back to the apartment, and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to the last fic in this series has given me the courage to apply to some writing programs in addition to the more science focused colleges my parents want me to apply to. Thank you all so much for the encouragement. Without it I would've continued doubting myself forever.
> 
> Comments are food for the soul :)
> 
> So excited to see what you all think of this chapter! And even more excited for you to see what I've got in store later in the fic. ;) I live to impress you. As always, stay safe and stay informed


	2. A Series Of Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane panics and Ryan checks his email. Plus, a new character is introduced :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know I said it would be a while between chapters but I swear I didn't think it would take THIS long. I won't bore you with excuses except to say that the start of this chapter was done two months ago and the majority of it was done a month ago, but the last five hundred words didn't get written until, well, just now. I blame my muse who enjoys torturing me with long bouts of no motivation. That being said, thank you all for your patience; I hope this chapter is worth the wait (I'm pretty sure it's the longest chapter I've written to date but size isn't everything ;).
> 
> One other thing! Keep up the comments and suggestions! I didn't expect to be stressed about this story, but this second part especially has created a lot of anxiety in me. I'm worried about letting you guys down, especially since you've been so nice to me despite my poor updating habits. I won't go too deep into my anxieties because I'm sure you can all imagine just fine on your own (is there a single person on ao3 who doesn't suffer from anxiety? lol) but just know that every positive comment, however simple it may be, has a huge impact. It really means a lot guys. Thank you.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I almost never put these because, well, I don't think it needs to be stated that I don't own these people or their lives and I don't wish them ill will, but I am including one here because this chapter and the chapters to come include discussion of a relationship between two real people in a way that is not necessarily positive. I have nothing but admiration for this relationship in real life and it is only the way it is in this fic for story purposes.
> 
> I tend to prattle on too long in these things but oh well, what can you do. For now, I shall leave you here. I hope you like the chapter and I'll try to be faster with the next one. 
> 
> As always, stay safe and stay informed.

_ Does my sassiness upset you? _

_ Why are you beset with gloom? _

_ ’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells _

_ Pumping in my living room. _

_ \- Maya Angelou _

  
  


Shane wasn’t sure how he got there. It was too far to walk, except he must have walked because he didn’t own a car and he certainly hadn’t taken any public transportation. His breathing was still too shallow, too quick. He shouldn’t have come there. Not like this. Not before he’d had time to figure out how to present himself in a way that wasn’t so damned pathetic. 

_ Pathetic. _

The word echoed in his head. No one had said it, not yet at least, but Shane could read it in their eyes. They all thought he was pathetic. He  _ was  _ pathetic. So pathetic he had run from the guy who’d spent the last few months doing nothing but take care of him, his own life be damned. So pathetic he’d ended up at the house of an ex-girlfriend, someone who didn’t deserve to have to comfort him like this, someone he didn’t deserve to be comforted by. 

He considered leaving. Heading back to Ryan’s with his tail between his legs and some half-assed explanation on his tongue. Ryan wouldn’t push him. Wouldn’t make him talk about it. But he’d look at him with those searching eyes. That lip trapped between his teeth as if it was the only way to stop himself from asking what Shane knew he wanted to ask. He was going to have to talk to Ryan sometime, but right then his heart was beating a rapid staccato in his chest and his vision was blurring and he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.  _ I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. _

Even if he had wanted to return to Ryan’s apartment, it wouldn’t have been possible. Shane was dead on his feet. He estimated he’d been walking for hours, the sun was much lower in the sky than it had been last he remembered, but he didn’t have his phone so he couldn’t be sure. Either way he was certain he couldn’t walk all the way back without collapsing, and he didn’t have his wallet so an uber was out of the question.

Still, he wasn’t sure he could do this right now. Face someone else, someone solidly planted in  _ before _ . Someone who surely knew what had happened, who’d probably watched the video, who’d borne witness to his greatest humiliation. He couldn’t do this. But he was so damn tired. And his chest was tight. And his breathing was sharp. And though it’d been a while since they’d been together, since they’d seen each other outside of a group setting at all really, Shane remembered. He remembered how firm her hands were, small, yes, but firm against his chest or back or around his neck. He remembered her smell. Not the smell of the perfume she sometimes wore-  _ don’t wrinkle your nose, Shane, it smells nice and besides I like the wolf on the front  _ -but the smell that was uniquely her. He remembered her smile. 

The ending of their relationship had been a mutual thing, a long time coming really, and Shane didn’t miss the fighting or the tears. But he missed the friendship. The thing they’d been before they were a couple. He missed her. And he had nowhere else to go. And so he knocked.

And so she answered.

“Shane?”

He smiled weakly. She deserved a proper explanation, a proper greeting at least, but his breath rasped in his throat and his hands shook and it was all he could do to get out a single word.

“Sara.”

\---

Ryan’s hands were shaking as he opened his laptop. He needed something, anything, to distract him from the moment. From the echoes of the TV interview seared into his brain. From the thought of Shane, scared, confused, alone in the crowded streets of Los Angeles. He’d barely managed to stop himself from chasing Shane down the street when he’d run out of the apartment. Part of him still wished he had, especially hours later with no sign of the big guy and the sky growing dimmer and dimmer. But chasing Shane wouldn’t have accomplished anything. Shane was no athlete but his unnaturally long bigfoot legs gave him a sizable advantage, and Ryan was fairly certain he couldn’t catch Shane, if Shane truly didn’t want to be caught.

Ryan’s fingers hovered over the keys. He’d planned on pulling up some shitty movie and zoning out. He refused to admit to himself that it would have been easier and more comfortable to sit on his couch and watch a movie on the tv rather than sit hunched over his laptop like a college student. He didn’t want to look at that damn tv ever again. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure he wanted to watch a movie either. It felt like a betrayal almost. To do something so inexplicably tied to Shane (because their friendship was founded on movie nights) while the man was suffering alone. If he was being one hundred percent honest, he wanted to suffer too. Even though he knew, intellectually at least, that none of this was his fault, he didn’t want Shane to bear the entirety of the night's misery.

Ryan sighed loudly to himself. If he was dead set on suffering, he might as well suffer productively. Ryan swallowed hard, and did something he’d been dreading for the past two months. He opened his work email.

He balked at the number of emails for a moment, but he’d never been the inbox zero kind of guy anyway, so he got over it quickly. He skimmed the subject lines. Most of the emails were office-wide announcements from buzzfeed management. Things like team luncheons or casting calls for the video of the day. Ryan didn’t bother with any of those. Another large section of the emails were well-wishes from co-workers. Not friends mind you, Ryan’s friends had sent their get-well-soons over text, just acquaintances. Coworkers. The type you nodded politely to in the break room. The type you had to double check the name tag of at company functions. Ryan didn’t open any of those emails either.

There were a few emails from his team, the unsolved team that is. Updates on video progress and viewer count, notes from the research team and cost-analysis from the finance guys. Most of the emails were from that weekend, before anyone knew what had happened. After that, it seemed he was left out of most of the email chains. He tried not to be bitter about it. They probably just didn’t want to bother him. Probably thought he wouldn’t want to think about work. In all fairness, he hadn’t, but still, it felt like a betrayal. Like being cut out of his own project. 

He bit back the anger and replied as nicely as he could where necessary. There were only a couple of things that required his input. He had a good team and besides they had mostly been spinning their wheels without Ryan and Shane there to film.

After he finished with his inbox, he refreshed the page out of habit. Surprisingly a new email appeared. Ryan frowned. It was from buzzfeed corporate. Ryan could count on one hand the number of times he’d received emails straight from the top. And he could count on zero hands the number of times they’d been positive. The email was addressed to Shane and him both, and the subject line read,  _ The Next Step. _

Ryan hesitated, cursor hovering over the email. He didn’t have to open it. No one would blame him if he put it off for a while. But then again, it would just bother him, linger in his mind. And besides, despite the ominous subject line it was probably just corporate platitudes and a polite demand that they fill in their employers on when they’d be returning to work. 

Ryan opened the email.

\---

Sara was clearly shocked to see him. Immediately Shane regretted coming. She was going to tell him to leave, surely. Or if not, she was going to wish she could. Shane wasn't easy to deal with when he was freaking out like this, she knew that better than anyone, and it wasn’t like they were even really friends anymore. Just two people who’d shared the most intimate parts of themselves for a little bit. Just two ships passing in the night, except it was morning now and the ships were miles apart and maybe they hadn’t even been that close the night before but it’d been so dark and the lights of another vessel had been almost enough to fill the void...

The thought of Sara rejecting him, slamming the door in his face like he was some door-to-door bible salesman, made his chest tighten further and his breath catch in his throat. Before he could shut down that train of thought, he was coughing and choking for air and  _ oh god he shouldn’t have come, he shouldn’t have come, why did he come? _

His vision became spotty, his hearing went in and out, there was a hand on his shoulder, another on his arm, firm but not painful. Still touching him though, touching him without his permission, touching him when he didn’t want to be touched, when he wanted to be left alone, he just wanted to be left alone,  _ please, just leave me alone. _

Someone was calling his name. _Sara_. It had to be Sara. Logically he knew that, but his heart sped up at the sound. Her voice was soft and feminine and it probably wasn’t that similar to Nat- to _hers-_ but it was close enough and oh god this was his life now wasn’t it. He was broken now. And then his throat spasmed and he wasn’t breathing at all now was he. Distantly he heard shouting. He felt dizzy, like he was falling. He still couldn’t breath but maybe he was okay with that. Maybe he was done with the whole breathing thing. With the whole living thing. Maybe he was just done.

\---

The email wasn’t long.

_ Mr. Bergara and Mr. Madej, _

Right off the bat Ryan felt weird about it. No one called them by their last names, not even the management at their own buzzfeed office. It was just too weird, too impersonal, too adult. They hunted ghosts for a living, for god's sakes, it was pretty safe to say they weren’t in the business of taking themselves too seriously.

_ I hope this email finds you at a good time.  _

What the hell was that supposed to mean? How exactly would this be a good time? Shane had just gotten out of the hospital. He couldn’t even hold a phone in his hands for very long, much less check his email. Ryan took a deep breath to settle the rage building in his gut. It wasn’t fair to be angry at buzzfeed. They didn’t have anything to do with what happened, and they’d yet to make a fuss about paying any of the hospital bills or the fact that Ryan and Shane had gone radio silent when it came to addressing the internet. All in all they’d greatly exceeded what Ryan had expected from a large heartless corporation.

_ Everyone here at Buzzfeed Corporate was heartbroken when we heard what happened.  _

Ryan couldn’t help but over analyze every single word of the email. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism, stopping him from having to actually think about the broader situation. It wasn’t his fault, however, that the word choice was deserving of scrutiny. Who used the word heartbroken in business emails? Although, to be fair, who wrote business emails about the livestreamed torture and rape of an employee?

_ We are more than happy to do whatever we can to aid in your recovery. We understand what a life altering event something like this can be, and we are eager to help you find a way forward. Of course, you may both take as much time as you need before beginning the process of returning to work, but if you deem yourselves ready we’ve devised a series of steps to assist in the affair. _

And there it was. Couldn’t go a whole paragraph without cutting to the chase. Ryan couldn’t stand the falseness of corporate-speak but he was doing his best to stay reasonable about it all. It made sense that buzzfeed wanted them to get back to work. It wouldn’t be exaggerating to say they were practically single handedly keeping buzzfeed relevant. Or well they had been. And would be. Probably. The truth was they’d only really talked about work once, about a week after Shane had come out of the coma. They’d both wanted to get back to making Unsolved. But things had been different then. For one, they hadn’t yet learned the extent of Shane’s injuries. The doctors had been hopeful they’d be able to restore the muscles and nerves in Shane’s wrists, but after a few surgeries they’d deemed the damage too severe. Shane would never regain full use of his hands, something Ryan was fairly certain the big guy had yet to process. 

Buzzfeed, too, might have been happy to have Shane back in theory, but they had yet to face the reality of his newfound disabilities. He couldn’t type or use a laptop without immense pain and frustration. He couldn’t hold cameras or even a goddamn pencil. They could make it work with Unsolved. They  _ would _ make it work, if that’s what Shane still wanted. But it wouldn’t be the same. It would never be the same.

Ryan took a deep breath and returned to the email.

_ The first course of action we recommend, is a public address. Your privacy is important to us, so it is up to you how much you are willing to share. As long as you address the situation in some way, the fans will be happy. _

And by fans, they of course meant the guys at the top. Nothing sold more than drama, and the more time passed without Shane or Ryan so much as making a tweet, the more the drama faded. 

_ To assist you in this task, we’ve included the contact information for a publicist who specializes in this sort of thing. She’s been updated on your situation and has begun devising the content of your announcement. Take your time, and contact her when you are ready.  _

_ Get well soon, _

_ Annalise Madison, BA _

_ Buzzfeed Corporate _

_ amadison@buzzfeed.ca _

Ryan couldn’t help but let out a shocked bark of laughter at the sign off. Get well soon? What kind of shitty corporate platitude was that supposed to be? Get well soon was what you said when someone had the flu. It was what you said when someone broke their leg. It was what you said when someone had endured a minor injury and was going to be completely a-okay in just a matter of days. They’d been kidnapped and tortured for god's sakes. They were  _ never _ going to be ‘well’ at least not in the same way they’d been before. Shane couldn’t button his own shirt for god’s sakes. And Ryan was so damn claustrophobic he couldn’t put on a long-sleeved shirt without feeling trapped and bound.

And what the fuck made buzzfeed corporate think Ryan would  _ ever _ allow a publicist to dictate how he talked to his fans.  _ His  _ fans, not buzzfeeds. He’d been the one to draw them in. To earn their loyalty and respect by always telling them the truth. And sure, Ryan had no plans to tell them  _ everything _ when it came to his personal life (and boy was this personal) but he wasn’t gonna bullshit them either. He didn’t even need Shane there to know he’d feel the same. They’d been in agreement on that from the start. Honesty was important, especially when most others in your field were lying their heads off for views. No way was Ryan gonna sacrifice their reputation just ‘cause buzzfeed wanted them to use some flashy publicist. 

Ryan slammed his laptop closed angrily. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw something. He wanted to have a much-needed discussion with the one person who knew exactly what he was going through. The one person who’d gone off the fucking grid. That was it. He’d given Shane space. He’d given him time. But this was too much. He was gonna find his friend and he was gonna bring him home.

Ryan stood abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor. He ignored it, turning instead to grab his coat. He was halfway through the door when his phone rang.

\---

He was breathing better now. Sara had been close to calling an ambulance when Shane had shown up at her door in the midst of what she now realized must have been a panic attack. It had been all she could do not to drop him as he’d stumbled into her arms. Luckily, she’d been able to direct his dissent towards the couch before he went completely limp. She’d covered him in a blanket and slipped a pillow under his head and whether he’d fallen asleep or passed out she wasn’t certain. Either way, Shane Alexander Madej was unconscious on her couch. And wasn’t that a mind-fuck and a half.

It had taken her less than a minute to realize what her next step should be. Ryan answered on the first ring.

“Sara?”

“Ryan. Um..hi..”

Sara and Ryan had been sort of close once, back before she and Shane had parted ways. They’d enjoyed each other's company at least, and had confided in each other more than a few times. But it had taken the break up for Sara to realize that neither of them ever initiated a hang out. It had always been Shane. Looking back, it seemed almost silly the way he’d organized their time together. Sort of like he was a mom booking playdates for his kids. But it had seemed natural at the time.  _ Hey Sara, Ryan’s been dying to check out this new Korean place, you should go with him. Hey Sara, I can’t make that party this Friday, but you should take Ryan, he’s always down for a good time. Hey Sara, you and Ryan should do something this weekend.  _

Sara understood it in a way. Shane had done the same thing with his brother, trying to get Sara and Scott to spend time together. It was sweet for the most part, the way he tried to tie his family together, create strong bonds between everyone so that everything would be permanent. It hadn’t worked of course, but it was still sweet.

After the break up, Ryan and Sara hadn’t hung out. There was no bitterness or resentment, the break up had been mutual, and neither Ryan nor Sara were the type to hold grudges anyway. But without Shane, they no longer had a common link, and neither of them had made any effort to make it otherwise.

“Hi. Um..what’s up?”

Still, it was nice to hear his voice. She wasn’t too proud to admit she’d missed him.

“I uh..Shane showed up at my apartment.”

She heard the intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Is he okay? Is he still there? Can I talk to him?”

The urgency in Ryan’s tone scared Sara. Should she have called an ambulance after all?

“He’s still here, but he’s passed out on the couch. I think he was having a panic attack. Is he... should I have called an ambulance?”

“No he’s just-no, no ambulance if we can help it. He’ll just freak out more. I’ll uh..I’ll be right there.”

She heard the tell-tale sounds of an apartment door being closed and locked. Then footsteps. Then the opening of a car door and the hum of an engine. 

“Okay,” Sara finally whispered.

Ryan didn’t respond but he didn’t hang up either. Sara put the phone on speaker so she could hear the sounds of Ryan driving. It was reassuring in a way to hear proof of the lessening distance between them. Her eyes drifted to Shane, his face lax in sleep. She thought of the video she hadn’t been able to watch, but knew the contents of all the same. She thought of the man she’d dated, the man she’d loved. She wondered if that man existed anymore, or if he’d died in that lunatics basement with his hands tied behind his back and his body exposed to the world. She heard Ryan curse under his breath, presumably in response to traffic or a bad driver.

“It’s okay,” Sara said. She wasn’t sure if she was speaking to Ryan, scared and desperate, ignoring his own pain and suffering for the sake of his best friend, to Shane, so hurt and so lost that no amount of medicine or therapy could ever help him find his way back, or to herself, sitting in her living room with the man she’d once loved more than anyone else, wondering how to put him back together again without breaking her own heart in the process.

“It’s all going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you're all dying to know more about Natalie and whether she's telling the truth or not, but you'll have to wait just a bit longer. I can't reveal all my secrets too quickly or that would spoil the fun lol. That being said, I promise there is a point to all this and I think you will like where it ends up.
> 
> ALSO BEFORE I FORGET, people were so positive about the addition of Steven to the story that I thought bringing Sara in might be fun too. I love her and think her POV will be very interesting. That being said, I want to know what you guys think. I know some people don't like reading stories with too many outside 'characters' so if you guys feel that way I won't use her viewpoint too much. Personally, as an h/c addict, one of my favorite parts is seeing how other people in a 'character's' life see them after/during an incident. (It feels weird to call them characters bc they're real people but for the sake of the story they are in fact characters). Again, I want to write what you want to read, so if you feel strongly one way or the other, leave a comment :)


End file.
